


Then You Blinked

by CatFiction



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Baby, Child, Grief, Kidfic, Loss, Tragedy, father - Freeform, life - Freeform, parent, single parent, teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatFiction/pseuds/CatFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank never really realized how fast time could pass until he became a parent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1: Baby

**Author's Note:**

> This fan fiction was origninally posted on another site in February of 2009 and completed in July of 2012.

 

I wasn’t exactly sure what to do or what to think when the pink bundle was placed in my arms. My immediate reaction was shock. I might’ve been shaking slightly- that I can’t remember. I just remember the warm feeling of the squirming little baby girl in my arms. Her eyes were still closed tightly and her skin was still very pink. At some point my legs gave out and I had to sit. Somehow I knew my wife wasn’t going to make it to see her daughter again.  
  
I waited for hours in the room alone with Abigail snuggled securely in my arms. I found it comforting to run my finger over her chubby cheek and tell her soothing words, even though I knew nothing was really ok. I was twenty-four and scared shitless to be a parent all on my own. I’d be scared no matter what. But my wife wasn’t with me. And she wouldn’t be.  
  
When the doctor came in to tell me the news, I didn’t break down and cry. I don’t know if I was in too much shock to at the time, or if it was because I prepared myself for the answer they were going to give me when I asked about her.  
  
My mom was at my side by the next day. She flew in from Chicago to be with me in my time of need. I had been sleeping on the couch in what was my wife’s hospital room for the night. I was still there because Abby wasn't released from the hospital yet, and I couldn’t bring myself to go home to sleep and leave her here alone.  
  
When my mom woke me I was sore and upset. My throat was dry and my eyes stung. It was then that I broke down and cried into my mom’s shoulder for what seemed like hours. I broke down severely until a nurse came in with the pink bundle that was my daughter and asked if I wanted to feed her. Something in my mind told me to smile. It’s not like my wife would’ve wanted me to be crying so much. She was always a happy person. She saw the positive light in everything, and the positive light in this situation was that we both brought a healthy baby girl into the world.  
  
“I-I don’t-“ I started, trying to let her know I didn’t have a fucking clue how to even feed a baby a bottle. I just always figured Lucy and I would learn together. She of course had more experience. She had, had many younger siblings, and multiple little cousins growing up. I also heard something about this 'mommy instinct' thing that just sort of notified you of what to do when your young needed you. I was obviously not the female in the situation. I was not mommy. I was daddy and I was lost.  
  
The nurse placed her in my arms anyway and I found her small weight to be relaxing. “There we go, daddy, you’re already doing good,” she complimented, probably just trying to support me and encourage me a bit. It worked as I let a weak smile play across my lips. She had placed the bottle in my hand that contained some warm formula and I nervously held it to Abby’s small pink lips. I still had yet to see her eyes open. She always seemed to be asleep when I saw her, but when I put the bottle into her mouth her eyes opened automatically and looked up at me. I thought she would cry. I thought I would be a complete stranger to her. She wasn’t used to my touch. It’s not like I carried her for nine months. That was Lucy. But Abby didn’t cry.  
  
“She knows her daddy,” the nurse said, and my mom agreed before pecking my cheek and rubbing my back gently.  
  
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I just watched her consume her bottle and stare up at me. She had beautiful big eyes. Beautiful blue eyes. They weren’t my eyes. Not at all. I was Italian. I had brown eyes and tanned skin, but her skin was so fine and you might not even recognize her as being my daughter if she didn’t have my nose and natural hair colour. Her eyes were Lucy’s. Her skin was Lucy’s. Her lips; the calm expression on her face; and even her ears were her mother’s. “Kid, you’re so lucky you look like mommy,” I told her quietly.  
  
My mom had gave me a swift slap on my arm with a bit of a smile. “But you would be just as lucky to have the female version of daddy’s looks too,” she cooed down to my newborn.  
  
I weakly smiled and the nurse agreed with my mom before walking me through step by step how to burp Abigail.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Abby was free to leave the hospital by the next day. I probably looked a mess, but I had to stay put together for her sake. Lucy and I had our own house. My job paid pretty good and her career was a reliable one. With her gone now though I didn’t know how I was going to manage this. Sure, my job was great while it lasted, but how long would that money last with a little newborn and no more income? All I ever knew was music. Touring; playing shows; being a punk rock star guitarist. It’s all I ever knew and breathed. As a result from it I acquired this image too. Piercings and tattoos that I looked at in the mirror everyday. A tattoo up high on my neck, which at the time was just a way of me showing my dad how serious I was about being a musician and never settling for a desk job; now it was a haunting feeling. Lucy and I teamed together could take care of this little baby. We had it agreed that I could still tour, but I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t tour knowing Abby was home with someone taking care of her that wasn’t her dad or mom. Sure my own mother would do it. She would only be so happy to, and it’s not that I didn’t trust her, it’s just I didn’t want to have to ask her of that. Abby was my own child. Mom raised me to grow up well and then have my own life with my own family. Abby was my own family.  
  
Mom came to stay with me for awhile. The first thing I had done as soon as we arrived home was cry. I couldn’t handle it. The last time I had been in the house was when Lucy and I were leaving for the hospital. Her water had broke in the washroom late in the afternoon when she was fixing her hair- a habit she had. She was always fixing her hair. We had been a giggling happy couple when we walked out the door, me holding her hand and carrying her overnight bag. We were going to the hospital as two and coming back as a family of three. Three was now two again though.  
  
That whole day I was a wreck collapsed on the couch, but mom didn’t try to get me up and going. She let me sulk and cry, and even scream when Abigail wasn’t sleeping. When Abby was asleep though she spent her time taking care of me and cleaning up the house. If I fell asleep on the couch I would wake up again covered by a blanket. She made me lunch and dinner and at times would just hold me close on the couch, stroking my hair and whispering calming words to me. Some of them were in Italian which calmed me even more. The way the words just flicked off her tongue. I never had a clue what they meant. I never bothered to ask, but at the time they were the best words to hear, no matter what they meant in English.  
  
The next day I was a little better. I got up and I showered. I really cleaned myself up and then I walked into the nursery for the first time since we came back home with Abigail. I buried my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans and walked over to the crib slowly. I looked down into it to see her sleeping peacefully and it brought a small smile to my face. She was a pretty little thing. I was lured into leaning down a bit to pet her minimal hair softly before retracting quickly when she whimpered and then squirmed. The pacifier in her mouth fell out and her face began to contort with the loss of it. Her little face scrunched up and soft mewing sounded. “Oh,” I said out of surprise. I had then picked up the pacifier quickly and stuck it back into her mouth. She calmed down instantly and went back to sleeping.  
  
I sat down after the little ordeal. I sat in the rocking chair we had bought for the room. It was meant for mine and Lucy’s early morning excursions when the baby would wake up needing us, but right then it was my sanctuary from harsh reality. Abigail was sleeping calmly and the atmosphere was quiet. It lulled me greatly.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
After being lulled for at least an hour, I got my first try at diaper changing. That in itself was an adventure. Mom had laughed so hard at my first attempt that she turned beet red before kissing my cheek sloppily and patting my back. “It’s ok, honey, it was a…good…first attempt.”  
  
“Don’t sugar-coat my diaper abilities,” I joked back weakly. “Just give me the truth.”  
  
“You need help.”  
  
“Show me how to do this.”  
  
With swift perfected movements she had Abby diapered again, dry and happy. “You’re just lucky that was number one,” she teased me as she then cradled my baby in her arms. “Don’t worry my beautiful little grandchild, daddy will get better at this. He’s a quick learner.” Abby in return began to cry a little and my mom laughed again. “Alright, well maybe it will take awhile.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Over the next few days I had a crash course in how to be a father and a mother all in one. This and I had to organize and attend my wife’s funeral, which had been the worst moments of my life, and the only thing there that really kept me going and together was Abigail who had then since discovered my many tattoos and would stare endlessly at the colours on my arms when I held her. My dad had pat me on the shoulder and said maybe it wasn’t so bad of a thing that I made my arms a mural.  
  
The funeral had been just that. A funeral. It was something I wanted to forget instantly. I wanted so badly to say something, but my choked voice wouldn’t allow me. I barely talked at all and just hugged those who offered their arms to me for comfort. My band members had probably been the best refuge for me. When I went to our lead guitarist’s house after the funeral, we just sat around for a bit talking about everything other than my wife and the new baby. We just talked like it was old times, and I had needed that. I even caught myself laughing so hard it brought tears to my eyes. When I had arrived home after that evening, I knew I could pull through.  
.........................................................................................................................................  
  
My crash-test course consisted of trying to decipher the difference between Abigail’s cries. Whether it be her ‘I’m hungry’ cry, her ‘I’m wet’ cry, or her ‘I’m tired’ cry, as well as all the cries in between. It was exhausting, and left _me_ wanting to cry in the evening when she was finally down for the night, only to wake up at two in the morning and then again at four for one reason or another.  
  
Mom stayed with me for nearly three weeks before she decided I could do it all on my own. She was convinced apparently. When she didn’t even have to lift a finger to care for Abigail, she knew it was high time she head home, only staying one more day to teach me how to bathe Abby thoroughly in her first actual bath. Mom gave me an ‘A’ in that department. “You’re so gentle, honey,” she told me softly as I had bathed my daughter carefully- lathering her hair with the softest touch possible, probably because she didn’t even have that much hair to begin with.  
  
When mom left I felt abandoned again. Before she had left she gave me a big hug and kiss, telling me how proud she was of me, and how I would be the best daddy in the world. “She’ll realize one day, Frank, how great you are. One day when she’s older, she’ll thank you, just like you thanked me. There are going to be moments when you think to yourself, ‘why me?’. You’re going to have breakdowns like every other parent and you’ll have moments where you don’t know what to do and have to improvise. All parents have to and you’ll be just fine. You call me whenever you need to, ok? When you need help, I’ll be on the next flight in.”  
  
“Ok, ma,” I had squeaked through some tears. I had just been scared at the time. I couldn’t possibly do this all on my own. I missed Lucy so much.  
  
As soon as she was out the door and in the taxi that would take her to the airport Abigail woke up from one of her many naps. I inhaled sharply and walked to her room. “H-hey,” I had said softly with a bit of a stutter as I leaned over her crib. “What’s the matter?”  
  
She had wailed loudly and I soon began to sniffle along too. I had no fucking clue what was bothering her. With mom there I had been more confident, but now I just had no idea what to do. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do for you. I’m a horrible parent. I can’t do this.” I had sunk down next to her crib and cried. “I need help.” Her cries increased and my head was spinning, but something drove me to get up. I leaned over her crib again and picked her up gently, putting her over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want. What do you need?” I pat her back softly and then she had burped before falling quiet again, leaving me to laugh and then just smile. That was all she had needed. I brought her into the living room and sat down. I had a bit of confidence restored.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
It’s been a month now. I’m still having issues with being a fulltime parent. There’s just so much to do and know. I can change a mean diaper now though, so that has to be some sort of an accomplishment.  
  
The phone rang at one in the afternoon on Wednesday and I cursed, hoping it hadn’t woken Abby up since she just fell asleep not that long ago. “Hello?” I answered as I put the nipples from her bottles into the pot of boiling water to sterilize them.  
  
“Hey,” Mikey’s voice came. “What’s up?”  
  
“Just boiling nipples,” I yawned without thinking much of it.  
  
“That’s….kinky…”  
  
I broke out into laughter in realization over what I had just said. “For the bottles,” I finished. “Why are you calling?”  
  
“Checking in I guess. I haven’t talked to you in awhile. How are you holding up?”  
  
“I’m…” I began as I thought. “I’m tired. Just tired. It’s not easy.”  
  
“Yeah, it sounds like a tough job to be a dad.”  
  
“Harder when you’re the only parent.”  
  
“I understand. Listen, if you ever need me or anyone in the band to help you out, just say the word. I mean, none of us know very much about babies, but I’m sure we can figure it out.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“We’ll have to find some time to hang out soon again.”  
  
“I don’t know when that will be, dude.”  
  
“We’ll get you a baby sitter. You have to get out of the house you know. You’re a young guy. You need to be able to have some fun.”  
  
“I don’t know. Who would watch Abby?”  
  
“Baby sitter…”  
  
“Like baby sitter’s are trustworthy in today’s age,” I scoffed.  
  
“I’m sure if you talked to some people you can find someone’s fifteen year old or something to watch her for a few hours for you.”  
  
“Who would I talk to?”  
  
“I’ll find someone for you, how’s that? My mom has this friend from work. She has a sixteen year old daughter. Maybe she could watch Abigail for you? My mom wouldn’t be friends with just anybody.”  
  
“Would it be too weird if I interviewed her? Do you still do that in today’s age? I don’t know! Fuck.”  
  
“Calm down. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the interview too much. I’ll get my mom to ask.”  
  
“Alright,” I sighed as I took- lets just call them bottle caps- out of the water with the tongs and put them in a container. “Thanks, dude. I appreciate that.”  
  
Abigail’s crying rang throughout the otherwise silent house and I closed my eyes in slight annoyance. “I gotta go. Baby just woke up.”  
  
“Kay. Take it easy.”  
  
“Talk to you later.” I hung up and then turned the stove off before wandering to her room where she was still crying loudly. “Hey, kid,” I sighed. “Up so soon? What’s the matter?” I don’t know why I bothered asking. I could smell the problem already. With a groan I picked her up and carried her to the change table.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
That same night I sat on the couch in the living room in front of the t.v. I was feeding Abby her bottle and watching Barney. I don’t know why I didn’t just switch the channel to something I’d rather watch, but there was this feeling I had that thought maybe I should be watching something that would eventually interest her. She was a baby after all, why did she have to listen to grungy music videos or crime shows with shooting in them? “You know,” I said to her, “your hair is growing in quite nicely. You don’t look very bald anymore.” She just stared up at me blankly and I sighed quietly, wishing for the day when she could talk could come a bit sooner. I couldn’t wait until she was old enough to actually have an intelligent conversation with me about something going on the world, as opposed to what she would be telling me at the age of four. Like what just happened on Sesame Street, or she would be telling me the same joke on repeat until I went crazy.  
  
After a bit she began to refuse her bottle so I put it on the table and put the spit rag over my shoulder before holding her there and patting her back. This part could take awhile so I leaned back and stared at the brightly coloured puppets on the television. “You know what? You know what, Abby? Daddy might just start talking like Barney soon if I watch a few more episodes of it. Then, when you can walk and talk and all that, you can tell all your friends about how your daddy is actually Barney. But then I’d probably end up in a mental institution, huh? We’ll keep it a secret. But if I’m Barney, maybe you’ll see me as a hero. Do kids still idolize Barney? Huh? Kid, I hope you’re one of those freaky extraordinary kids and start talking at two months. I might go nuts if I can’t have a conversation with anyone in this house soon.”  
  
When she began to cry after a bit of my rambling I got the hint and shut up. “Sorry. I talk way too much. When you’re a teen, I might just drive _you_ insane. Simply because I wouldn’t shut up. But that's not insulting you of course. You're just a baby. You have to drive me nuts with your crying.” I pat her back a couple more times and she finally burped. “Finally. Took you long enough. I’ll have to teach you how to be a championship burper one day. Then you can even burp your name! How cool is that? Isn’t that cool, Abby?”  
  
I heard steady soft breathing and realized she had already fallen asleep. “Right. I was supposed to shut up. It’s about bed time for you anyway, seeing as you’re already sleeping…”  
................................................................................................................................................  
  
It took a couple days for Mikey to get back to me on the babysitter news. I was still skeptical over hiring one. I was probably too worried about it though. I honestly just couldn’t think of any of my close friends who have kids ever telling me they hired a babysitter. Usually it was someone in the family who would babysit. My parents lived in Chicago and there was no way in hell I’d hire my cousins. My cousins were the definition of insane. Kowing them, Abigail would be introduced to a strip club at the tender age of one month. Lucy’s parents didn’t live in Jersey either. Pretty much none of her family did. They lived in various places in the US, but not in Jersey. When we had married, she moved to Jersey to live with me, because there was no way I was leaving Jersey for Los Angeles.  
  
Mikey’s brief phone call had informed me of very few details. All I knew is that there was this girl named Kylie who was fine with the idea of a lame interview for the job and that I was supposed to call her cell phone to set up a some kind of time for my- what is beginning to sound professional- interview. In conclusion, Mikey wasn’t really a major help.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
I was just about to heat up some leftovers from my dinner yesterday when the phone rang and I answered. “Hi, mom,” I yawned after taking a quick glance at the caller display.  
  
“Hi, son,” she chimed back. My mom is almost always a happy person. It’s rare to see her having a bad day, because she’s just great at making things work.  
  
“So what are you up to this evening?” she continued.  
  
“Dinner.”  
  
“You’re going out?”  
  
“Nope. Microwave dinner.”  
  
“It’s not those ramen noodle packages again, is it? Those things aren’t nutritious.”  
  
“No, ma, I cooked dinner yester-“ I yawned again, “day. Today is leftovers. Why don’t you pick on Abby? All she ever drinks is formula.”  
  
“Hm, so I raised a comedian?”  
  
I smiled and then actually set the timer on the microwave before leaving the room to wander around as I talked. “Hey, ma, is it dumb to be interviewing a babysitter?”  
  
“You’re getting a babysitter? I don’t know. I never had to hire one. I just threw you to the neighbours when I wanted to go out.”  
  
I rolled my eyes and plunked down on the couch. “Well I’m pretty sure two of my neighbours are the type who are never home and I think the others are old people around your age who are criminals.”  
  
“I should throw my old lady blue wig at you for saying something so untrue and ridiculous,” she told me right back.  
  
“Right,” I laughed. “Anyway, you see my problem.”  
  
“Mhm, well I think it would be a good idea to meet this person. It couldn’t hurt.”  
  
“Yeah. I will. I just have to call her up and set up a time.’  
  
“So how is my grandbaby doing?”  
  
“She’s napping. Actually, she’s a bit boring. All she does is eat, sleep, and make a mess of her diaper.”  
  
My mom laughed this time and then sighed. “Well don’t worry. She’ll be as fun as a barrel of monkeys in a few more months. Once she starts crawling you’ll have to keep an eye on her constantly.”  
  
“That’s fine. I have nothing else to do.”  
  
“Frank,” she cooed softly, “you need to get yourself a babysitter. Absolutely. Get out of the house for a bit. Have fun. You deserve a break.”  
  
“Thanks, ma,” I smiled faintly before hearing the beeper on the microwave. “Well dinner’s ready.”  
  
“Ok. Make sure you eat healthy. Getting sick is not an option for you right now.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
“And I’ll talk to you again soon.”  
  
“You always do.”  
  
“Love you.”  
  
“Love you too, ma.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
The evening was rather uneventful, just like always. Abigail woke up a couple times and I took care of her needs and watched tv. I tried keeping her awake a bit past her usual bedtime in hopes that if would result in her sleeping through the entire night, but all I really did was piss her off. Apparently babies get mad at you when you try keeping them awake. She wailed loudly and became very irritated with me that eventually payback was in play and she didn’t stop crying for the longest time. Nothing would make her stop and it was driving me crazy.  
  
“Shut up,” I sang quietly as I paced back and forth in front of the tv. “Shut up, Abby… You should just go to sleep now. My ears are going to start to bleed soon. Shut up, Abby.”  
  
Eventually I took the ‘big book to becoming a good parent’ out from under the coffee table. Mom had actually sent us the book in the mail as her way of congratulating us once she was informed of the great news. Portions of the book were marked- sections Lucy and myself thought would be extremely important. Paragraphs were highlighted and some things were written in the margins too, all in Lucy’s neat handwriting.  
  
I flipped through the index until I found what could be useful tips and began to read. Abby’s crying sort of began to phase out to my hearing because that’s how used I was getting to it by this point. Finally I discovered something parents often refer to as ‘tummy time’. I just call it ‘lying on your stomach’. Apparently ‘tummy time’ is cuter though, so that’s what it would be.  
  
“Abigail,” I said as I picked up my daughter. “how about tummy time? Huh? I know it sounds dumb. You’re so much smarter than falling victim to something so stupid sounding, but, hey, maybe it’ll work. Because you need to stop crying and I need to sleep.”  
  
I put a blanket on the floor and then put her stomach down on it. We’ve done this before, sure. It was never ‘tummy time’ before though. It was just something I thought would be funny to do. “There,” I declared as I lay on my side next to her. “Stop crying.”  
  
Miracles must exist because she shut up only seconds later and I sighed in relief. “Finally,” I smiled as I stroked her small hand with my finger. She worked on keeping her head up slightly and I giggled a little. It was hard to realize that it was a skill you had to learn. She had so much to learn and I had so much to teach. “You’re learning, Abby.”  
……………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
The next morning I didn’t wake up until a quarter to twelve because Abigail woke up at several different points throughout the night that kept me going from my room to hers. Eventually I ended up falling asleep in the rocking chair in her room for awhile. I didn’t know why she insisted on waking up so much. My theory was that it was still payback for trying to keep her up later than usual. Revenge would definitely be her form of defence one day. She’d be one of those girls who plotted against every other girl who pissed her off or stood in her way. Right now I wasn’t sure how to think of that. In one way it was probably good, and in others, not so much. “Don’t get in trouble with the law,” I had mumbled through the dark with a finger pointed at her crib. “If I have to bail you out of jail I’ll throw a fit.”  
  
When I woke up for the rest of the day it wasn’t because I wanted to, but because Abigail was up yet again needing me. She was probably hungry this time and judging from her cry that was exactly what it was. “I’m coming,” I muttered into my pillow.  
  
I walked around the house as I fed her a bottle and then I caught a glimpse of the note on the fridge. “Crap, I have to call that girl. What was her name again?” I racked my brain for the correct name of the teenager and came across nothing. “Well, I’ll just hopefully think of it when I give her a call today. Right?”  
  
Abby stared up at me with the same blank expression I’d been getting for a month now. “That’s all you do. Stare. Stare, eat, sleep… I should buy you a miniature guitar. Then you can at least try and figure that out while you stare. Your mom would have hated that idea though, so it’s a no go I guess. Drat. But I’ll totally buy you a guitar when you turn…five. Five sounds like a good age to start in my opinion. And I’ll teach you everything about guitar. Right?” Blank stare. “Well it’ll be exciting enough when you learn how to smile.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
I gave this sixteen year old girl a call in the afternoon while Abigail was down for a nap. It never really occurred to me that she was probably in school at the moment seeing as it was only just after two. So when she didn’t answer I realized why she probably wasn’t and rolled my eyes at my stupidity and left her a quick message asking for her to give me a call back whenever she got the chance to. I made sure to leave her my number twice, because lets face it, two out of three times people never quite understand you when you leave a phone number too quickly only once in a message.  
  
After I made the call that didn’t exactly have any sort of progress to my life I did some laundry. I didn’t exactly have to do laundry quite yet, but at least it was out of the way. Of course then I had nothing to do again and tried calling each and every person in the band, becoming frustrated with each voicemail I was greeted with. How could they all be busy at the same time? Fuckers. Even television wasn’t entertaining. How could it be though? Soap operas? That wasn’t exactly my thing, so eventually I turned to the computer.  
  
Normally I hate the computer. I don’t like it for various reasons, but at this point I was willing to give it a shot again. So I visited some sites, read about a few things going on in the world and then eventually landed on some articles regarding my absence from the band. I could never read beyond the point of ‘on parental leave’ because the articles would then always proceed to discuss Lucy’s recent death and Abigail’s recent presence in the world. So I always stopped at ‘parental leave’. I couldn’t even bare to go through fans comments, because a lot of them said ‘sorry’ and others said ‘when is he coming back?’. I still had yet to explain that I would not be returning at all. The band hadn’t announced it quite yet and I hoped they didn’t expect me to say it, because I could hardly even admit the truth to myself- forget telling the world of our fandom.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
A couple days later it was Friday and I had just finished tidying the house up a little bit. Well, at least in the living room. It was officially unharmed by spit rags and plushy toys. I had talked to that girl whose name is actually Kylie, and arranged a time with her to come drop by for a few minutes just so I could see she wasn’t a weirdo. I knew she wouldn’t be. She was the daughter of one of Mikey and Gerard’s mom’s friend, so she couldn’t be all that bad.  
  
When she got to the house Abigail had just woken up and I had her in her swing where she looked around the room contently and listened to the noises on the tv. “Don’t cry,” I lectured before I answered the door and smiled at the girl who stood on the other side. “Hi.”  
  
“Hi,” she smiled back a bit shyly.  
  
“Come on in.”  
  
She walked passed me and looked around the walls for a moment before looking to me again. I realized she was probably waiting for me to talk, and why shouldn’t she be? This thing was my stupid idea anyway. “So, do you want to chill in the living room for a second? All this is really for is for me to make sure you’re not some kind of weirdo. And you don’t seem like one so I don’t think this will take any longer than five minutes, really. Did you want a drink or something?”  
  
“I’m fine, thanks,” she smiled.  
  
“Right. Well, ok. Lets go into the living room and you can meet my daughter.” I still got a tingly feeling when I said ‘daughter’. As if it wasn’t true and I was dreaming. If it was a dream though, Lucy should still be here.  
  
I motioned to around the corner and she followed my direction into the…well…living room I guess it what you would call it. Tv area is probably a better term. A seating area with a tv and coffee table was what it actually was. As soon as she rounded the corner she walked over to the swing and cooed over Abigail. I’ve come to realize that teenage girls love babies. Based on my adventures to the grocery store and other places out in public. I’ve ran into some fans a few times who have had the chance to meet Abby and that’s always a big event.  
  
“She’s so cute,” Kylie commented as she continued to stare at Abigail.  
  
I smiled weakly in response and sat down in the recliner, waiting for her finish greeting Abby. “We thank you for the comment.”  
  
She sat down after another minute and waited for me to talk again.  
  
“Alright, so…I definitely didn’t introduce myself properly,” I said, realizing the true fact. “Sorry for that.” I held out my hand, “I’m Frank.”  
  
“Kylie,” she giggled back as she shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”  
  
“Likewise,” I weakly smiled back. “Right, so…do you know anything about babies?”  
  
“I bit. I have younger cousins I baby-sit now and then.”  
  
“Right on,” I nodded.  
  
I found freedom.


	2. Part 2: Child

Mom warned me. I won’t deny that. She warned me time and time again on the phone that time moves fast. It’s the clichéd term I’ve heard all my life. It's the one I nodded in agreement over, though never understanding its meaning until Abigail came over to me with her grade three spelling assignment one day not that long ago. Only thirty-two years old and I think I almost had a heart attack when she had jumped onto the couch next to me and opened her spelling book. ‘Dad, I need help to study for this test,’ she had told me clearly.  
  
She took out her notebook and a pencil and asked me for the first word. “Alright, spell, ‘ready’,” I told her but not before I took in a breath of air to clear my mind over how much she already knew. My narration of spelling words wasn’t quite up to her standards though as she stopped me; her small hand up in the air near my mouth.  
  
“No,” she had said. “Teacher always uses the word in a sentensth first.”  
  
“Right, ok,” I had nodded before pausing. “How’s this, then? ‘Abby was not ready to go to sleep’.” She wrote down the word rapidly with her tongue sticking out to the side ever so slightly as she concentrated. ‘Ready’. I definitely wasn’t ready for the fast-going pace of life.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
It’s been two weeks since that particular spelling test. She got eight out of ten on it, so it’s still hanging on the fridge with the stupid gold star smiley in the corner that sort of mocks me every morning, though I couldn’t be more proud of her progress in school. I’m mocked because though I’m content with my life, I still miss the days I was a ‘rock star’. Now my day consists of sitting around the house and waiting for something to happen. Chores are almost always done, because that’s all I ever do. I hate just sitting around to watch television. I can’t just sit in one spot too long because I get this itch to do something.  
  
Sometimes I’ll take the guitar out and just make up little tunes on it. As hard as I tried to get Abigail interested in playing guitar, she didn’t like it, and always neglected picking it up to play. So, I gave up. Sure I was disappointed, but if she didn’t like it, then I wasn’t going to force her. She was and is more of the math and science type. She can solve simple math additions almost faster than I can. She loves numbers. She loves numbers; she loves riding her bike; she loves colouring; and she loves to play dress up, just like every other little girl.  
  
“Abby, come eat breakfast,” I called before yawning. I poured her some of her favourite cereal and then sliced up a banana for her. She likes eating banana in small pieces…and with a fork. I don’t get it, but that’s just how she is.  
  
She raced into the kitchen not a minute later and sat in one of the four chairs tucked under the table. “Slow down, weirdo,” I commented before placing her breakfast down in front of her. “You’ll knock your teeth out, just like you did those other two.”  
  
“Dad, I had to lose them,” she grinned up at me to show off the two very obvious gaps in her teeth.  
  
“Yeah, but if you knock them out by smacking into the table, I don’t think the tooth fairy’s going to count that. That’s cheating.”  
  
“No it’s not,” she argued playfully before digging into her cereal.  
  
I ruffled her hair and yawned again. I hate mornings. “What do you want to drink, kid?”  
  
“I unno,” she shrugged.  
  
“Wow, you’re such a big help,” I teased. “Apple juice for you this morning.”  
  
“No. I want orange.”  
  
“Orange it is. So what’s the game plan for school today?”  
  
“Math, and spelling, and science, and social studies, and gym, and music, and recess.”  
  
I mouthed along with the list of subjects she counted off on her fingers. It was the same list everyday and she told it in the exact same sequence everyday too. “Whoa, busy. How do you manage it all?”  
  
“I’m smart.”  
  
I laughed a bit and put her glass of orange juice down. “I have to agree with you. And slow down eating, you’re going to choke.”  
  
“I love cereal,” she declared around a mouthful of food. She tried to cram in another spoonful and I couldn’t watch. It was just too disturbing.  
  
“Uh-huh. I know. So what are you learning in music lately?”  
  
“Singing.”  
  
“You learn singing?”  
  
“No. We sing.”  
  
“Ah. And what do you sing?”  
  
She shrugged and I gave up on the conversation. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. “Right. Well finish up and then I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”  
  
“I can do it myself,” she stated smugly, with all the sophistication she could muster for her age. She pointed toward the door and swallowed what was in her mouth before speaking. “It’s just over there.”  
  
This was new, but it was obviously coming up. She was, after all, eight years old. She should be learning some more independence. I trusted her, but I didn’t trust society and therefore was sceptical about letting her walk a simple block over. “You sure about that, Abby?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“Alright then. Your call. And slow down eating, seriously. I don’t want to have to clean puke off the floor.”  
  
She giggled but obviously didn’t listen to my lecture as she gobbled the food down like it was some kind of race.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
“Alright, I think you’re good to go,” I commented as I pulled a toque onto Abigail’s head. It wasn’t absolutely freezing out, but it was still cold enough to need some sort of warm gear on. It was the midst of January and there was a very light covering of snow on the ground. “Do you think you’re ready to go?”  
  
“Yeah,” she nodded in a bit of annoyance. “It’s getting hot!”  
  
She pulled at her jacket and I laughed before pulling her against my side for a half-hug. “Alright. Get going then.” She threw her arms around my waist to hug me back and then darted out the door. Being a parent I followed after her a moment later. I just slipped on some shoes and walked up the driveway to make sure she did in fact make it to the bus stop without any issues. I could easily see the meeting spot up ahead. It really wasn’t that far at all, but again,-society was a scary place sometimes.  
  
I hopped around a bit to keep warm. The wind was really chilly and I was only wearing my jeans and a t-shirt. When she was on the bus and on her way to school I went back inside and scratched the back of my head. So what was _my_ game plan for the day?  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Since Abigail was born I had faced many ridiculous jobs I hated, just to make sure I had money. It wasn’t that I was short on money, because I was always safe in that aspect, but panic seems to reach out to everyone, and I wasn’t an exception. So I worked shitty jobs. Sometimes it was at a fast food restaurant of some kind, and other times I worked in random shops at the mall. They were quick jobs that never lasted that long, but they were always some reassurance for me.  
  
The band had called me up a couple times in the past to ask me if I had rethought joining the band at all, but my answer was the same each time. It would kill me to miss a day of Abigail’s life, and I didn’t want to drag her around on tour. She deserved better than that. Besides, she didn’t even show much interest to music, so touring would hardly be any sort of excitement to her. The band always carried on without me until they finally stopped calling. Now and then one of them will give me a shout, just to check in. Or they’ll stop by to say ‘hey, what’s up?’ and greet Abigail with some sort of trinket from the road. That’s really all that happens though. They’re busy with their lives and I understand that. I’d be the same way if our roles were reversed.  
  
Dating played its part in my life too. I’ve long since dated a few different women. None obviously worked out, considering I’m single at the moment. They were just flings I guess. They didn’t see me the way Lucy had, and I didn’t see them any differently either. They weren’t marriage material in my eyes, and I wasn’t sure if anyone would be. Lucy was who I felt I was meant to always be with. I don’t know if I exactly believe in multiple soul mates. If she exists, I haven’t found her yet.  
  
I crashed on the couch and sighed. Six hours until I had anything productive to do.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
On normal days, Abigail will come home on the school bus. She’ll come racing into the house, throw her backpack on the ground in the hall; undress from her outdoor gear; and then come find me where she will blab about school until she runs out of anything remotely interesting to say. Today I decided we’d do something a bit different though.  
  
At two thirty I grabbed my car keys, put my jacket on and headed out the door to the car. I drove myself to her school and waited outside to catch her before she ran onto the school bus.  
  
When she did come out of the school, I knew something wasn’t right. As her dad, I can pick up on these things really fast, and almost always I have no idea how to handle the situations. This is where my own mother’s knowledge of ‘improvise’ plays its part. I walked over to her and smiled weakly. “Hey, kid, what’s up?”  
  
She looked up at me with sad eyes and then away as I took her backpack to carry for her. I held her hand and we walked toward the car a bit before I said anything else. “You’re not going to tell me about school today?”  
  
“No,” she mumbled.  
  
“Why not? Did something bad happen? You’re not in trouble are you?”  
  
“No.”  
  
I nodded and opened her car door for her. She climbed in and buckled up, but I stood there trying to figure out what else to say as I held her car door open still. “So why don’t we go do some shopping at the mall and then we’ll go have dinner somewhere you want?”  
  
She shrugged and I closed the door before hopping over to the drivers side- still feeling nervous about this entire situation. I felt just as weird as I did when she had asked me the ‘where do babies come from?’ question back in grade one. I don’t think I really handled that one too great, because she went around telling everyone that babies hatched from eggs for awhile until a brief description in grade three corrected her theory. Now she was telling me I was wrong and that babies came from love. I have to shrug and nod, because really, that statement sounds a lot more true than what she previously thought.  
  
Before getting in the car I startled myself with thoughts about puberty. She was too young for that still, right!? I was relying on her family studies in grade five to teach her about that so I wouldn’t have to. With that nervous thought, I got in the car and didn’t start it yet as I glanced over at her.  
  
“Are you feeling ok?” I asked sceptically. “Your stomach doesn’t hurt or something, does it?”  
  
She shook her head and I closed my eyes in silent thankful relief. “So what’s the problem, Abby? Why so sad looking?”  
  
“It’s nothing,” she frowned and folded her arms.  
  
“Are you mad at me?”  
  
“No… Yes.”  
  
“Yes or no?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
Alright. So my kid was mad at me. Where do you go from there? I needed my mother right now. I hated solving problems. “What did I do?”  
  
“Nothing.”  
  
“So then you shouldn’t be mad at me. You weren’t mad at me when you left this morning.”  
  
“I’m mad at you,” she shouted. “Leave me alone.”  
  
“Fine,” I said back loudly. Immature on my part, but that’s just what happens when I get frustrated. I started the car and started to drive home. “Forget shopping today. You ruined it, Abigail.”  
  
“Fine,” she said in that choked up voice that always makes me feel guilty. “I didn’t want to go anyway.”  
  
I decided not to say anything. Saying anything now would just be patronizing the poor kid.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
At home she retreated to her room. She didn’t slam the door and she didn’t rush there, so that made me even more nervous. Usually when she’s pissed off she’ll rant and rave at me until she’s completely red in the face and then slam the door a few times. She hated not getting her way, just like most kids.  
  
I went about making dinner for that evening as she stayed in her room. I didn’t go knocking on her door because I knew she wouldn’t answer anyway. Instead I made dinner; called to her when it was done; and ate alone when she didn’t join me.  
  
That evening I sat on the couch reading a book when I finally heard her come out of her room. She walked over to me a bit and then paused, mumbling that she was hungry. Her eyes were puffy from the amount she must’ve cried, and her cheeks were flushed.  
  
“So now you’re hungry,” I stated with a nod. “I want to know why you’re mad first though. Tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“I’m not mad,” she said quietly.  
  
“Why were you before then?”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“ _Why_ are you sorry though? I want to know _why_ , Abby.”  
  
When I used her nickname she knew I wasn’t mad, so she climbed onto the couch next to me and hugged my arm. “A mommy and me day.”  
  
“Oh,” I mumbled as I put the book down on the table. This problem has occurred before, but no matter how many talks we have about this issue, she always gets incredibly upset. And why shouldn’t she? She has every right to be angry and upset. If you ask me, they should get rid of the specific gender days and just call it ‘my parent and me day’. Unfortunately her school like’s tradition, so they keep the day.  
  
“We went to ‘daddy and me day’,” I reminded her. “We’ll go to that again.”  
  
“I want to go to mommy and me day,” she sniffled. “On mommy and me day they bake cookies and do crafts.”  
  
“Hey, we had fun at ‘daddy and me day’!” I said enthusiastically. “We had that barbeque and played games outside! It was fun! Don’t you remember?”  
  
“But I want to bake cookies and do crafts.”  
  
I pulled her onto my lap and wrapped my arms around her. “Well, we can do that at home. I’ll bake cookies with you. No promises that they won’t be a bit burned though. There’s a reason I don’t bake… And we can definitely do some arts and crafts.”  
  
Her sad eyes looked up to me again like they had back at the school, and then she smiled faintly. “Ok.”  
  
“Ok? Yeah? Awesome. You and me. ‘Daddy and Abby bake cookies and make arts and crafts day’. This is an official day now, so you can’t change it.”  
  
She smiled some more and then I gave her a piggy-back ride into the kitchen to get her some dinner to eat. She giggled along the way and I felt accomplished.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
You would think the events of the evening were completed, but they weren’t. There was always the issue of getting Abigail to go to bed. It was quite possibly one of the most complicated things to get her to do. Bedtime was a big issue. She’s utterly impossible when it comes to that issue.  
  
When you tell her it’s time for bed, she’ll jump right into her little tricks, but lets face it- I was pro at that as a kid myself. So I didn’t normally fall for it unless I was in a great mood, or just felt like granting her a request for that extra fifteen minutes of television watching. The other reason she hated bedtime was for the frequent nightmares she had. I don’t know what it is that makes her have so many nightmares, but she does, and more often than not she will come sneak into my room either simply startled or actually in tears. It never made sense to me why sleeping in my bed opposed to her own helped so much. I don’t know how it was she felt safe with me, because I can’t exactly control the dreams she has while she sleeps, but still- it never stops her from clinging to my side at night. I’m not about to lie and say it’s nice having her cling like that. It’s no real comfort to me. It’s more of an annoyance because I tend to move around a lot in my sleep and she interferes with that- not to mention knees me in the crotch a countless amount of times in one night. But it’s about her. It’s about whatever makes her happy and content.  
  
Tonight it seems she is going to be stubborn and keeps whining that I never let her stay up late. “But I do let you,” I argued back lazily.  
  
“No you don’t,” she complained as I apparently become some kind of jungle gym to her. She hopped over and then sat on my lap. That wouldn’t have been so odd, but then she moved again and was seemingly trying to burrow behind me as she pushed my back away from the couch and stood behind me. I looked up at her and raised an eyebrow in question but didn’t say anything. She was just a weird kid. I accepted that one a long time ago and I loved that about her.  
  
“At least go change into your pyjamas,” I bargained.  
  
“Fine,” she muttered before running off to her room.  
  
She was back in an instant where she dove onto the couch, this time to hug my arm and rub her nose against my shoulder.  
  
“Kid, if you’re rubbing snot on my shoulder you’re going to be in _so_ much trouble.”  
  
“No I’m not,” she slurred back. There was a small pause before she said anything else and during that time she simply watched the flickering ads on tv. “Dad, do you love me?”  
  
“Sometimes,” I murmured in a teasing way, though I put my arm around her to give her a squeeze against my side.  
  
Those blue eyes of hers stared up at me for a moment in confusion and I had to smile back gently. “Course I love you, Abby.”  
  
“Lots?”  
  
“Lots. Why do you ask? You hate me?”  
  
“No,” she giggled as she launched herself against my chest. “Love you lots.”  
  
I smiled and hugged her back tightly before she sighed and stared at me again with a frown. “I’m not tired,” she stated and then started playing with my hair. “I’m not sleeping.”  
  
“I can sort of tell you’re not. Sleeping people generally don’t take up hairstyling. Well, unless they’re sleepwalkers I guess. It could probably happen. But you’re not a sleepwalker, Miss. Abigail. So you gotta hop on over to your bed and sleep. You have school tomorrow.”  
  
She smiled as I talked and then giggled when I was finished. “Huh?”  
  
“School, Abigail,” I repeated. “You have to go to bed because you have school tomorrow.”  
  
“What’s that?” she giggled. She was deciding to play dumb I guess, because she obviously knew what school was.  
  
“A place where you go for a portion of the day so I get a bit of time to not be crazy,” I told her as I picked her up and then began to carry her to her room. I guess another reason for her stubbornness about sleeping was partly my fault too. I never actually gave her a bedtime before quite recently. I just let her fall asleep where she wanted and then I’d carry her to bed. Usually she ended up falling asleep on the couch or floor while she watched a movie at night. Generally she was sleeping by ten, but giving her that privilege probably wasn’t the smartest idea I had as a parent, because now I had to deal with this kind of behaviour.  
  
“Daddy’s crazy, daddy’s crazy,” she laughed as she reached up to play with my hair again. I really never figured out what her fascination was with my hair. I think it all really started when I dyed it blonde and black once when she was a toddler and she was amazed by it or something; always wanting to touch. Eventually I grew it out and stuck with my natural hair colour. For now that is how it would stay.  
  
“Sure thing, kid,” I nodded. “And what is your fascination with my hair?”  
  
She giggled and then threw her arms around my neck as she buried her face in my shoulder. I guess I wasn’t getting an answer. “I don’t want to go to bed!”  
  
“I know that. You keep telling me, but guess what! You have no say! You’re going to bed.”  
  
“You can’t make me,” she argued playfully.  
  
“I’ve got doubled sided tape. I’ll stick you to your bed like a fly on flypaper.”  
  
“Waz dat?”  
  
“Never mind. Just go to bed.”  
  
“No.”  
  
I sighed dramatically and then plunked her down on her bed. “If you don’t sleep, I’m just going to have to call the police.”  
  
“No,” she smiled, knowing I was fibbing. Fortunately this trick never really gets old though, so I continued.  
  
“Mhm, I will, Abby. I’ll call the police and then they’ll come here and take you away because you weren’t sleeping on time. Other little girls are asleep right now. If you don’t sleep you’ll become an ‘it’ and I don’t want to deal with that. So I’ll let the police and they’ll take you to a place for stubborn kids like you.”  
  
“Don’t call them,” she piped up with wide eyes. “No!”  
  
“I’m getting the phone,” I told her as I turned to leave.  
  
“I’m sleeping,” she called quickly as she scrambled to get under the covers of her bed and then closed her eyes quickly. “See!”  
  
I smiled and then walked over to give her a quick kiss goodnight. The police trap always worked. Especially ever since I actually made a phone call. It was only to Ray who played along and diguised his voice a bit to make her think he was a police officer. It completely freaked her out and now she fell for it every time. She had her tricks and I had mine. “Night, Abby. School tomorrow. It’ll be rad.”  
  
“Wreally?”  
  
“Sure thing. Now sleep good, alright?”  
  
She nodded at me and then closed her eyes again.  
  
She’d be asleep in a few minutes. The kid could not be tired at all but still fall asleep within three minutes. I didn’t get how she could do that, but it always worked for her, so I wasn’t going to question it too much.  
  
Once the little monster was in bed I lounged on the couch again. I was tired, but didn’t actually want to sleep yet. I was physically incapable of sleeping at the moment. My tired feeling was only because I was bored. With nothing better to do I flipped through channels of boring shows endlessly, sort of actually hoping Abigail would make another fuss about having to go to bed early, just so I would have something to do again. Of course she didn’t get up again though and I eventually dawdled to bed, making sure the alarm was set at the correct time for the morning about three times.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
I didn’t need the alarm clock though. That’s what Abby’s for, because she was up and jumping on my bed at 6:04 in the morning. “Holy sh…skittles,” I corrected myself. I was trying really hard lately to lessen the amount of swears I used around her. The last thing I wanted was for her to earn her bad language reputation from me. She was already picking up on my other bad habits. Poor kid. “What are you doing up already?”  
  
“I have school,” she answered easily before falling right on top of me in a fit of giggles “Get up!”  
  
“I can’t,” I mumbled, “you’re too heavy.” Really I was just trying to fall asleep again because I didn’t have to be awake for another hour and a half, but she was very insistent because the level of her annoyance raised the bar another notch and she climbed off of me. At first I thought I was safe, and then I got whacked in the head with a pillow.  
  
“Abigail,” I whined. “Stop that. I don’t have to be up for an hour and a half. Go back to bed.”  
  
“Da police can’t come anymore. I slept lots!”  
  
“You didn’t sleep enough,” I muttered into my pillow. “You need to sleep for an hour and a half more. Go. I’ll time you.”  
  
“No,” she argued before hopping up and down on the bed again.  
  
“Abigail, I’m going to send you to boarding school.”  
  
“Waz dat?”  
  
“A school far from here where you’re not allowed to hit people with pillows at six in the morning.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Go to bed.”  
  
“Dad, I’m hungry.”  
  
“It’s only six in the morning,” I whined, kicking my legs a bit just for good measure to assure her how annoyed I was. To her it was hilarious though and she plunked herself down on top of my legs to stop me.  
  
“Daddy, is your alarm clock broken?” she questioned after a few moments. “It’s not ringing.”  
  
“It’s not supposed to go off for another _hour and a half_ ,” I emphasized, though that just went right over her head. She hopped down and stood at the nightstand, examining the clock. She tapped her knuckled against it and then went as far as to hold the thing to her ear, listening closely before declaring…  
  
“It’s broken. That’s ok! I’ll be the alarm clock! Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzz! Bzzzzzzz!”  
  
“Oh. My. God.” I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling before glancing at her. She was in her own world as she continued mimicking an alarm clock. It was suddenly a new game to her. “Abigail, stop that.”  
  
“Nope! You has to push da button!”  
  
“Oh. Right.” I sighed and then poked her bellybutton. “There.”  
  
She stopped and then jumped onto the bed again. “I’m hungry.”  
  
“I know you are.”  
  
“Can we eat now?”  
  
“Well I guess _you_ will. I’m not going to though. It’s too early.”  
  
“No it’s not!”  
  
“Oh, but it is. You have no idea. Don’t worry. You’ll learn about how to tell time in school and then it’ll be me having to wake _you_ up!”  
  
She giggled and then hopped off the bed again to race out the door, calling for me to follow her.  
  
This was what every morning was like. I didn’t mind it too much because as similar as each morning and day went, there was always something new she would teach me somewhere along the line. I loved every minute of our daily routine.  
  
I loved every moment of being able to watch her grow.


	3. Part 3: Teenager

I guess every adult at some point in their life looks in the mirror and mourns over how much they have aged, and then proceeds to compare back to the day when they were a careless teenager who took on any challenge thrown their way. I had that moment when Abigail came begging to me for money so she could go and buy the ‘perfect’ prom dress. I apparently lacked the knowledge to know how important it was to spend three hundred dollars on a dress she would more than likely only wear this one time. How much would her goddamn wedding dress cost one day? I don’t like the word ‘wedding’ right now. That feels too close for comfort.  
  
Over the past- nearly- ten years, Abigail went through all the normal things girls go through in their life. It was awkward, weird, and unsettling to me for plenty of those ‘growing up’ moments. The worst probably being the first boyfriend she had. That was a long time ago now, but I can still feel the awkwardness of it all. Especially when she talked to me about their first date and how she got her first kiss. I didn’t really know how to react to it. Part of me wanted to pound that stupid kid in the face for kissing her, and another part of me was sort of proud of her. I don’t know why she even began telling me about stuff in that certain category. It always seemed to make her happy to tell me though, so I never questioned her about how she didn’t feel odd about telling me about dates and crushes, and all that other girly crap. I just accepted it and tried hard to be more like a friend than father to her in some cases.  
  
I just got off the phone with my mom when Abigail got home. The entire conversation I had with my mom was practically all about bingo, because apparently it was her new hobby and was that interesting. I now know exactly what colour bingo marker to get to make my experience that much more enjoyable.  
  
Abby has a routine when she gets home. It’s been like this for a couple years now, actually. She’ll get home; kick off her shoes; go to her room to put her bag away; and then go drop her lunch off in the kitchen, before finding me in the house to say hi. Then it’s her snack time and usually she and I will eat some kind of snack and watch tv together for about an hour. It’s what she always calls our ‘chill session’. I kind of like it. It’s probably my favourite part of everyday, because it’s a whole hour dedicated to just hanging out with her. I don’t know how many dads get that with their teenaged daughter, but my guess is not too many. At least not an hour a day dedicated to it.  
  
“Hey,” I greeted when she walked into the kitchen.  
  
“Do you know what!?” she jumped right into, causing me a bit of startle.  
  
“You’re good at yelling?”  
  
“Jake broke up with me! With _me_! _He’s_ the one who I saw kissing Vanessa, and _he_ broke up with _me_! That’s so twisted!  
  
So it’s going to be one of those moments I guess where she’ll share and I’ll…be awkward like always. It works like a charm so why change now? Besides, I think her and this guy had only been going out about three weeks. That boy moves fast. “You should beat her up. That Vanessa girl. Beat her up. Kick her ass form here to Neptune. Then kick his ass from here to planet Pluto.”  
  
She giggled a bit and then pulled out a chair from under the table to sit with me. “Pluto’s not a planet anymore, dad.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“They declared it not a planet anymore. That was awhile ago.”  
  
“Well it’s always going to be a planet in my mind,” I frowned as she handed me over some forms that looked like the kind I would have to fill out. “Want me to kick his ass to planet Pluto for you?”  
  
“Violence is never the answer, dad,” she smiled weakly. “But thanks for the offer.”  
  
“The offer’s always open,” I slurred as I put more of my attention toward the papers I was staring at. “What the hell is all this crap?”  
  
“Forms you have to sign. It’s for prom.”  
  
“If you think I’m actually going to read through all this then you’re nuts. Give me the summary.”  
  
“It’s just stuff…you know, permission, and how I can’t drink…and how you’ll have to pick me up if I do, cause I’ll be in trouble.”  
  
“Don’t get in trouble,” I mumbled as I signed in random places it told me to.  
  
“Well you have to pick me up anyway though.”  
  
“Huh? Why? What time?”  
  
“Well how else am I supposed to get home?”  
  
“You have legs. Walk.”  
  
“Dad!”  
  
“What time?”  
  
“Four.”  
  
“Four p.m.!? Cheap party!”  
  
“A.m.,” she laughed at my obvious pretend shock.  
  
“Four in the morning, huh? That’s perfect timing. That’s about the time I get up to go take a leak and then go back to bed for seven more hours.”  
  
“Good,” she declared at my sarcasm. “Then you can take the time after your bathroom break to come pick me up!”  
  
“And ruin my entire sleeping pattern?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“You’re so not worth all these years of making sure you don’t mess up your life,” I teased as I finished signing.  
  
“Love you too, daddy,” she smiled.  
  
I got up after placing the papers in front of her and kissed her head. “Love you, kid.”  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
I was pretty happy Abigail wasn’t entirely crushed over not having a date for the prom anymore. I thought she would be, because for the past three weeks she’d be dating that moron all she would talk about was how they were going to match all ‘cute’ and go get pictures taken and blah, blah, I blocked out the rest, because…well, I’m dad.  
  
Instead of being completely upset, she shrugged it off saying she’d go with friends instead, and have even more fun than she would have had going with him. Now that’s my girl. I was proud of her for that.  
  
“Dad,” she whined later that same evening. I had just been watching a movie on tv when she came in with that look in her eyes. She was going to ask me for money. That’s what that look was. I’d bet a million dollars on it.  
  
“No,” I answered quickly.  
  
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”  
  
“You’re going to ask me for money.”  
  
I heard her sigh and then she came and sat on the couch next to me. “Alright, fine, but you don’t know why!”  
  
“Fine. What do you need money for this time?”  
  
“I need to get hair stuff.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Dad! How else am I going to look nice for prom!? You already said you wouldn’t pay to get my makeup and hair done, so I have to do it all myself! So I need the stuff to do it! Please?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“Why are you so stubborn! It’s prom, dad! It’s important!”  
  
“Why can’t you go like you are right now? You look nice.”  
  
“I’m in my pyjamas!”  
  
“And they’re lovely. I’m sure you’ll be a smash.”  
  
She rolled her eyes at me. I didn’t have to look to know she did. Apparently I’m not as funny as I think sometimes.  
  
“Daddy, please?”  
  
Oh no. It’s the ‘daddy’ routine. I don’t know why it gets to me so much. Unfortunately for me she knows it’s all she has to do to get me to give her permission for something, or give her the goddamn money. I’m a sucker for the ‘daddy’ routine. Sometimes she’ll even throw in the pout and then I’m completely beaten. Yeah, I’m a pansy sometimes. I admit it.  
  
“Ugh, how much?” I finally broke down as I reached forward to grab my wallet off the table.  
  
She clapped her hands together in happiness and smiled. “I don’t know. How much are you willing to give me?”  
  
I stared at her a moment and then cocked an eyebrow. I took a five dollar bill out of my wallet and handed it to her. “There you go.”  
  
“Dad!”  
  
I sighed and took out several more bills of different amounts. “Fine. Here. You need to get a job.”  
  
“I know. I will.”  
  
“I’m going to be completely broke soon. I’m going to have to live on the street in a cardboard box because you took all my money.”  
  
“Daddy! That’s silly! I’ll make sure you don’t end up on the street. I’ll buy you a house.”  
  
“How exactly? You don’t have a job.”  
  
“Then I’ll at least buy you a plastic bin. And it’ll have a lid, so if it rains you won’t get wet! But don’t close it completely cause you’d probably suffocate.”  
  
“You’re too, too kind,” I answered as I rolled my eyes at her but still smiled a bit. She said the dumbest things sometimes.  
  
She laughed and then gave me a hug. “Thank you, dad.”  
  
I hugged her back and cherished the moment a bit. How many hugs like this would I get before she moved out?  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
I remember the days when you used to have to drag her out of her bed to get up in the mornings. Quite literally some days. That’s one of the reasons she’d miss her first class in the morning sometimes. We’d both manage to sleep through our ringing alarm clocks on those days. Now she’s older and thankfully more responsible than me in some ways. When that alarm of hers goes off, she’s up and going. Most days she’s the one dragging me out of bed now. Or at least just making sure I get up in the morning. If she doesn’t come wake me and make sure I at least sit up in bed then I’ll definitely fall asleep again and not wake up until late afternoon. I stay up too late most nights.  
  
Today there is an excuse for sleeping in though. It isn’t a weekday. It’s the weekend. Saturday morning to be accurate. Most Saturdays I sleep in until at least one, but today someone’s waking me up. “Abby. -fuck sake, go back to bed.”  
  
“Well I thought I should tell you I’m going out now,” she explained with a laugh.  
  
“It’s…” I began as I checked the time on the clock, “eleven in the morning. You’re nuts.”  
  
“Maybe you’re just lazy.”  
  
“Hey,” I lectured, “you watch it, kid.”  
  
She laughed and then shook me again. “Well don’t sleep in past one. Get up and do something. In fact, you and I should go out to eat or something. We haven’t done that in a long time. Lets go get pizza or something!”  
  
“It’s called takeout,” I mumbled into my pillow, “and technology allows us to call in, order, and have _them_ bring the food to _us_.”  
  
“Dad, seriously.”  
  
“What, so yet another thing I have to pay for?”  
  
“I get it,” she said loudly with laughter, “I’ll get a job. I promise. I just thought it’d be cool to go eat out. We haven’t done that for I don’t know how long.”  
  
I peered up at her in the dimly lit room and couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Yeah. Alright. What time are you going to be back?”  
  
“I don’t know. Three? Four?”  
  
“What the hell are you shopping for today?”  
  
“My hair stuff! Why are you so forgetful?”  
  
“I’m dad.”  
  
“Oh yeah, you have a point.”  
  
“Alright. Well get out of here then. Who are you going with?”  
  
“Some friends.”  
  
“Are you driving?”  
  
“Nope. Natalie is picking me up.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Natalie! Dad! Honestly, you need to…like, write information down on your hand or something.”  
  
“What good is that? It’ll just wash off in the shower.”  
  
“Whatever. I’m going now. Don’t fall asleep again.”  
  
”It’s eleven in the morning, Abby!”  
  
“Wake up by one then!”  
  
“Yeah, alright. I will. I’ll see you later.”  
  
“Bye,” she called before walking out the door.  
  
I buried my face into my pillow again. When did I become the kid? Some days it feels like she’s the one taking care of me. Maybe she is. In fact, she _is_. The thought of that sort of bothered me, so I dragged my lazy ass out of bed and dawdled to the washroom to get washed up for the day.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
When Abigail got home it was about three-thirty, and of course she brought home a bag of crap that apparently wasn’t crap, but ‘hair supplies’. “So did you bring me some change back?” I questioned her as she took her shoes off.  
  
“Yeah,” she smiled up at me.  
  
“Really?”  
  
She nodded and took her wallet out of her purse. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me much that she placed a single quarter in the palm of my hand. “There,” she smiled. “I bet you thought I wouldn’t have anything leftover!”  
  
“You might as well not have,” I mumbled as I rolled my eyes just to add to the dramatics.  
  
“Sweet,” she exclaimed, “I can buy a gumball with that!”  
  
I closed my hand quickly and grinned. “Nope. I’ll buy _me_ a gumball. Thanks for the idea though, kid.”  
  
She sighed in only slight frustration before disappearing into her bedroom with the bag of crap. “So are we still going out to dinner tonight?” I called after her, down the hallway. “Or is this hairstyle stuff going to take up all evening?”  
  
“No, we still have to go out,” she hollered back. “You said!”  
  
“I was just asking! Jeez. And, hey, if you’re spraying any of that sparkle shit, don’t get it on the floor! It’s a bitch to clean up.” I nodded proudly at my own good parenting skills and then retreated to the kitchen where I was cleaning.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
I have never been overly emotional, but there are moments I am completely entitled to be. This moment in my life was one of them. My parents had flown in to see Abigail graduate. It was important they be there for both her and myself. Lucy’s parents flew in as well. They had always kept in contact with Abby and myself throughout the years; phone calls, birthday and Christmas presents, etc…  
  
I stood off to the side, outside of the building where her high school convocation was taking place. I felt jittery and anxious to get the moment over with, in one sense. In another I wanted the moment to last eternity. I already smoked two cigarettes and was on my third when my mom came over and put an arm around me. She kissed my cheek and then smiled “Frankie, Frankie,…quit the damn smoking already!”  
  
I smiled in response and flicked the cigarette onto the ground. “I’m just…”  
  
“Nervous?”  
  
“Yeah. Maybe that’s it. I feel old.”  
  
“ _You_ feel old? My _granddaughter_ is about to graduate!”  
  
“I guess I did something right then.”  
  
“You must’ve,” she smiled at me gently. “Now come stand with her. I want to take some pictures.”  
  
I nodded and followed her back to my kid who was giggling along with some of her friends. I wonder if one of them was that friend Natalie she told me about? When she saw me she hopped over smiling and then frowned. “You were smoking! Dad!”  
  
“I know, I know,” I sighed. “Give me a break today.”  
  
“Only today though,” she frowned a little more.  
  
I smiled weakly and then looked in the direction my mom was calling from. “I want you both smiling big,” she ordered. It wasn’t that hard of a task to complete.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
A few minutes later she had to go inside, but before she did, she latched onto me for a hug. There was nothing that really needed to be said at the moment. Her action told me how she felt and I hoped my hug back told her my feelings too. I was so proud.  
  
Sitting in the venue was probably the most nerve racking. I couldn’t seem to sit still. I had too many thoughts going on in my head. Where was she going to go after this day? She wasn’t moving out yet, thankfully. I don’t really think I could function yet without her there everyday. She was accepted at a the UCLA though, and I had always told her I’d pay for her education wherever she wanted to go, because I never finished college and I wish I had sometimes. So she had the option of leaving, but so far she was staying. It sort of bothered me though because I didn’t know if she was staying for my sake of because of her own interest. I hoped it was the second reason.  
  
“She’s next, she’s next,” my mom said to me excitedly. I don’t remember her being this excited for _my_ graduation. The thought made me smile a bit and then Abby’s name was called as both grandmas took pictures and my dad filmed. I laughed a little, but that still couldn’t cover up the fact that I had tears threatening to pour down my cheeks. If Lucy were here she’d be in the same boat as me.  
  
I watched Abby walk across the stage and had to take in a deep breath, just to make sure I was in fact still breathing. Of course when I exhaled though it was shaky and my mom noticed. She notices everything. So for the second time that day she kissed my cheek and held my hand.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
At three thirty in the morning I woke up to my alarm clock and dragged myself out of bed somehow. I had to go and pick up Abigail after all. She had looked so pretty when she left in the early evening to go to the party. She did her own hair and makeup, and honestly, I don’t think professionals could have done any better. And even more, she didn’t get that sparkle crap on the carpet, so that impressed me thoroughly.  
  
I yawned as I drove the twenty minutes it took to get to the venue where the party had taken place at. I just hoped she really hadn’t drank anything so I wouldn’t have to panic about her throwing up in the car. Then again, I hadn’t gotten a call from anyone to pick her up earlier, so that was a good sign that everything was fine.  
  
Driving there made me feel really old. I was yawning constantly and drinking as much coffee as I dared at such an early hour. It didn’t feel that long ago that I was staying up throughout the night, partying till dawn, and ending up with wicked drunk stories to pass on for generations. Now I was on my way to pick up my own kid from her prom. It was surreal. You just don’t expect it to happen until it does.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
I parked the car and then made my way to the front doors yawning yet again. Some parents were already escorting their kids out of the building, and I had to try not to laugh at some poor kid who totally heaved into the bushes. That’s what you get for drinking too much. I could relate to him though, because that was definitely me after my prom.  
  
Abigail, however, was nothing like me on my prom night. She greeted me just inside the front doors and took me over to the teacher who was getting parents to sign their kids out. I hadn’t even said a word to my kid before I was signing my name next to hers on the piece of paper. As soon as we were outside though she was hopping about happily.  
  
“How do you have so much energy?” I droned to her. “Christ, I’ve practically drank a whole pot of coffee and you’re the one hopping around. Did you break the rules? What did you drink?”  
  
“No I didn’t drink,” she laughed. “It was just so much fun! There was pretend gambling!”  
  
“Ah, well that’s good. It’s nice to see that school is setting you all on the right track to life. Throw your money away.”  
  
She rolled her eyes and then carried on about what kind of music they played; how much she danced; who she danced with; and how she took a gazillion pictures that we were apparently going to go through the next day.  
  
“So you had a good time?” I said, just for good measure as we reached the car and I unlocked the door for her.  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Good. I’m glad. Now get your butt in the car, because you’ve completely thrown off my sleeping pattern and I’m a man who needs his beauty rest.”  
  
“That’s really lame, dad.”  
  
“Beauty or rest?”  
  
“No, when they’re put together.”  
  
“Oh, so I shouldn’t say that?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Huh. Beauty rest, beauty rest, beauty rest!”  
  
She started laughing and I smiled before I began to drive in the direction of home, because I was honestly about to fall asleep, and after my kid just graduated, getting in a car accident was the last thing I wanted.  
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….  
  
By the time we got home, Abigail had fallen asleep, and I paused before waking her. Our roles had suddenly switched back to how they should be. I was being the parent. I had to wake her up and tuck her into bed so she could sleep off the results of the party. Not like on the average morning where it was her dragging me out of bed to get moving.  
  
As I gently shook her to wake her up, I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she needed me as much as I needed her around still.  
  
This wasn’t the end. It wasn’t her leaving me to find a new life. We still had miles to go before that day came, and that night I got to tuck in my little girl like old times. Only this time, without the threat of calling the police if she refused to go to sleep.  
  
“Night,” I told her quietly before leaving the room.  
  
“Night, daddy,” she murmured back, already half asleep.  
  
“If you wake me up before one tomorrow, I’m disowning you.”  
  
“Ok,” she murmured again before the room fell silent and I knew she’d fallen asleep completely.


	4. Part 4: Adult

Ten more years... Six of which I’ve been living alone now. I do have a girlfriend but she’s not someone I’m ever going to marry. She’s just someone who is more like my best friend with benefits, as crude as that sounds. She stays at my house about four times a week at random and that doesn’t always mean sex either. She’s someone in my life that I love a lot, but wouldn’t marry. We agreed awhile ago to leave it at that, because so long as we’re both happy that is all that should really matter.  
  
When Abby moved out six years ago, I seriously found out what it felt like to be on the edge of death. I was lonely. Of course she’d drop in frequently though, she only lived in an apartment five minutes away. At first she had made a habit of calling me at least once a day, everyday. That lasted about a month until it phased out slowly. Now she calls me about three times a week and comes to visit me once every two weeks. Sometimes- to my great disappointment- not even that. I’ve taken to calling _her_ now. Especially lately with her first kid due in just a couple more weeks.  
  
Abby got married last year. Her husband’s a good guy and they’re completely compatible together. It makes me smile to see them so happy. The wedding itself had been the definition of perfection, and it better have felt like that to everyone because it cost a fortune. I obviously helped pay for a portion of it, just like everything else in her life. It didn’t bother me much, I didn’t mind working again. This time I braved it and turned back to music. It had taken a lot of guts on my part and dozens of pep talks from my own daughter to even consider approaching something so meaningful in my life again. I did so attentively and with a careful pace, starting by picking up my guitar a little more frequently and jotting down the occasional poetic line that would one day build into lyrics. It took a long while but I earned where I landed. I now worked in a music studio with different bands, helping them make their futures as young musicians bright. I used to be that young once…  
  
 _My Chemical Romance_ was a huge success in its run. Most people I talked to had at least an idea about who they were when I mentioned that I used to be the original rhythm guitarist. Someone called me stupid for not continuing, but I disagreed with them. I got to see Abigail grow up, and that beat every show I ever could have played. I still talk to the guys sometimes. They all have kids themselves now, and I’m always getting those family portrait Christmas cards from them.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
The phone rang just as I walked through the door and I ran a hand through my black hair. Yes, black. I’ve always dyed my hair. The thought of grey hair kind of freaked me out, so when I looked in the mirror one day and saw enough of it to actually be noticed without a magnifying glass, or at least a keen eye, I went to the salon and got my hair dyed. I’m glad I did, because like hell am I going to give Abigail the satisfaction of adding a whole slew more of aging jokes to her already mile long list.  
  
The phone rang and I answered to hear that familiar voice all the way in Chicago. “Hi, ma,” I smiled, “how are things over there in the windy city?”  
  
“Calm,” she answered. “I’m not liking this becoming a great-grandma thought! You had her too young.”  
  
“You were twenty when you had me,” I argued back with a laugh.  
  
“Well why didn’t you learn from my mistakes?”  
  
“You didn’t bother Lucy and I almost twenty-eight odd years ago when we told you about Abigail.”  
  
“I was caught up in the moment!”  
  
I laughed again and then smiled. “Well I’m going to be a grandfather soon… So we’ll freak out together.”  
  
“This just isn’t right,” she sighed. “You’re not ready for this.”  
  
“Nope, but it’s happening... In about two more weeks.”  
  
“Are you going to the hospital with them?”  
  
“Well I’ll meet them there. She said she wanted me there, so there I will be I guess.”  
  
“We still don’t know if it’s a girl or boy?”  
  
I rolled my eyes. I repeated this line every time she called. “No, ma, they didn’t want to find out if it was a boy or girl, so it’ll be a surprise.”  
  
“Ugh, and when the technology is there to find out now too!”  
  
“We don’t like technology in this family,” I joked.  
  
“Hm, right. Well keep me posted on the baby news!”  
  
“I know, I know. I’ll call you as soon as we get to the hospital. It’s not for two more weeks though, ma! Stop freaking out early.”  
  
“Babies can come early. Why aren’t _you_ freaking out?”  
  
“Because everything’s going to work out fine. I gotta go now, ma. I’m going to make dinner.”  
  
“Alright. Bye, honey. I love you.”  
  
“Bye, ma. Love you too.”  
  
I hung up and sighed nervously. I had no idea if this would work out. After the way Lucy died, I was a complete wreck over Abby having a baby. If I lost Abby I think I really would die too.  
  
For good measure I picked up the phone again and called my kid.  
  
“Hi, dad,” she mumbled.  
  
Surprised for a moment until it dawned on me I narrowed my eyes at the microwave as if it was my daughter. “Damn you and your caller ID.”  
  
She giggled and then I heard the sound of some rattling cutlery.  
  
“What are you doing?” I questioned.  
  
“Eating of course,” she sighed. “That’s pretty much all I’ve been doing the past couple weeks.”  
  
“Well that’s good! What are you eating?”  
  
“Ramen noodles.”  
  
“That stuff is crap. There’s no nutrition in it.”  
  
“You sound like grandma.”  
  
I smiled faintly, I did sound a bit like mom. “Well I just got off the phone with her and she made me miss you.”  
  
“Aw, dad,” she laughed. “What are you doing right now?”  
  
“I have to get started on dinner.”  
  
“Want to come over and eat non-nutrition crap with me and watch tv? Mason’s working a bit late tonight.”  
  
“Ok. I’ll be over in a bit.”  
  
“Alright. Bye.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
I smiled and swiped my car keys off the table before heading out the door It would be just like old times when Abby and I would watch tv when she got home from school.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Mason and Abigail still lived in an apartment but were soon making plans to move into their first house. The only reason I assume is because Abigail’s been asking me a lot of questions about how to go about buying a house and how Lucy and I decided when to buy the house. She’d been asking me a lot of questions about parenting over the past few months too. Much like how I asked my mom a lot of questions throughout me having to raise her as a baby. The only difference in our situation was that I was dad and not mom.  
  
It took Abby about a minute to actually answer the buzzer. She didn’t bother answering though and just let me in. From there I traveled the normal path to get to their apartment. The door was slightly ajar so I walked in and automatically took off my shoes. That was a strict rule of hers. You _always_ took your shoes off because, well, dirt sucks. I can agree with her on that.  
  
Around the corner she was seated on the couch with a can of soda balanced on her inflated stomach. “Dad, look,” she giggled. “How awesome is this?”  
  
I rolled my eyes but laughed anyway and sat next her. “Took you long enough to answer the buzzer.”  
  
“Actually that was a record breaking time.”  
  
I smirked again and then snatched the drink off her stomach, because I know her well, and she can be a bit of a klutz. “So your grandma went on about becoming a great-grandma.”  
  
“Again?” she laughed. “Well you’re going to be a grandpa and you haven’t freaked out much.”  
  
“I’m freaking out on the inside,” I nodded and then switched channels on the television.  
  
“Good, I wouldn’t want you to be completely calm over becoming an old grandpa. There’s no fun in it if you don’t freak out a bit.”  
  
“And are you freaking out yet? You have two more weeks of virtual freedom and then you’re trapped for a good eighteen years.”  
  
“Not freaking out,” she answered as if thinking about it. “More excited. But why would I be freaking out? I have you here in case I need advice and help. You’re an expert.”  
  
“Alright then, first rule: make sure your kid gets a job earlier than his or her mom.”  
  
“Hey,” she laughed, “I bought you that plastic bin I promised you!”  
  
I smiled at the memory. It had been a joke birthday present for me from her. She had bought the stupid plastic bin with her first paycheque. It accompanied our ongoing joke of how one day I would be broke, having spent all my money on her and would end up living in a cardboard box on the street. She upgraded my cardboard box home to a plastic bin.  
  
“Yeah that’s true,” I agreed. “Aright, so rule two: Don’t try keeping your kid up past their usual bedtime. Your baby _will_ get _mad_.”  
  
She laughed and I continued. “This in place, make sure you actually set a bedtime for your kid. Letting them fall asleep isn’t the best idea.”  
  
“Aw, why not? I have the police story completely down. I memorized it.”  
  
“Once in awhile then,” I smirked. “Routine police story will eventually be completely figured out by the age of nine.”  
  
“I remember that,” she reminisced. “I think I dared you to call them.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“And you called Ray, I think. But I recognized his voice when he talked to me.”  
  
“It was a heartbreaking moment,” I teased. “I had to figure out another way to get you to go to bed on time.”  
  
“You played me a song on guitar.”  
  
I nodded and smiled weakly, “Worked like a charm.”  
  
She began to hoist herself off the couch and I helped her out before following into the small kitchen. She grabbed two packages of Ramen noodles and I went to the fridge to get a drink. I noticed the sonogram stuck to it with a magnet and smiled widely. “Is this the most recent?”  
  
“Last one until he or she is born.”  
  
I studied it closely and then frowned, “Ugh you can’t tell what it is.”  
  
“Ha,” she laughed at me, “my kid purposefully turned away knowing you’d try to figure it out.”  
  
I narrowed my eyes at her teasingly and grabbed the drink I wanted before closing the fridge door. I guess I really would have to wait until the birth to find out what it was.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
I got a call a week and a half later from Abby. She ever so casually told me, “Hey dad, I’m having the baby…so…you should come to the hospital. Mason and I are halfway there now.”  
  
“What!?” I answered back in surprise. “That kid isn’t due for another half a week!”  
  
“Well they’re early. Maybe it was all the Ramen noodles?”  
  
I laughed a bit and then grabbed my keys off the table. “Guess my mom was right. No nutrients in it. Alright, kiddo, I’m on my way there. How are you doing?”  
  
“Uh, ok I guess,” she told me with the most unsure tone I’ve ever heard her use. She was nervous and I could completely understand that. “It’s nothing major yet,” she continued, “but I thought it would be better to get there earlier than later.”  
  
“Absolutely. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes then.”  
  
“Ok.”  
  
I hung up and then headed out the door.  
  
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t practically skip down the front steps to the car. Sure there was the feeling of aging at an incredible speed, but this was going to be my daughter’s kid. My _grandkid_. I got to play the role of the rad substitute parent when his or hers mom and dad were working or needed a break. I knew I would have a big role in the baby’s life, Abigail had made that crystal clear already, and now after the nine months of anticipation, things were in effect. So you couldn’t stop me from practically skipping down the stairs with the biggest grin on my face.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Walking down the hall to her room at the hospital was like seeing blurs of the past. When did she become an adult? Time had already flown by from her being a baby to a high school graduate, but then after that it went by even faster. She got amazing grades in university, she got a good job, she introduced me to Mason, she got engaged, got married, and now here we were at room 505.  
  
I knocked and was let in almost instantly. It had been Mason’s dad to answer. Ah, the in-laws. His parents sat on the couch together staring at the small tv that was flashing images of some kind of game show. I was interrupted in my attempt to figure out what show it was by Abby’s voice.  
  
“Dad,” she smiled once my gaze was on her on her. I smiled back and walked over to her open arms indicating she wanted a hug. I kissed her on the forehead quickly before giving her the hug and sitting at the edge of the bed.  
  
“So how’s it going?”  
  
“Not bad,” she replied. “I’m really happy you’re here now though.”  
  
“Missed me?”  
  
“Yeah, sure, that’s it,” she answered teasingly.  
  
She inhaled and exhaled deeply and I squeezed her hand lightly. “Sure you’re ok, kid?”  
  
“A bit nervous,” she admitted. “For everything.”  
  
I nodded and then smiled weakly. “As you probably should be. Everything’s going to be fine though, alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” she sighed and looked at the door as Mason walked in.  
  
“Hey, grandpa,” he grinned at me and I rolled my eyes a bit. Yup, he was definitely the right match for my daughter. I liked Mason though, because he did have a sense of humour and I knew he made Abby laugh daily. He kept her safe and happy and so long as Abby was safe and happy then I was content.  
  
“Hey, _dad_ ,” I answered. “Feeling the nerves yet?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” he laughed and then shook my hand before turning all attention to Abigail. “Here, I brought you ice chips,” he told her softly. “Did you want anything, Frank? Coffee?”  
  
“I’m good, thanks,” I responded and watched Abby put the cup of ice down on the table beside her shakily, her body tensing up. I moved away and let Mason battle through the pain with her. He was the coach after all. It was difficult to watch her go through it, but I knew in the end everything would be amazing and she would be elated with so many beautiful emotions that the hell leading up to it would instantly be forgotten.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
Nurses were in and out of the room throughout the day with an occasional visit from the doctor here and there to check on progress. Each time he reassured me that Abigail was doing fine and everything was going as planned. I needed to hear those words on repeat; I couldn’t hear them enough. When I had been in the hospital with Lucy, nothing had went according to the big plan, nothing had gone right at all.  
  
It was early evening and Abigail called me over to her bedside. I had been staring out the window for a while now, watching cars drive by and the sun move across the sky. The moment she called my name I practically flew to her side.  
  
“You look worried,” she told me and held my hand.  
  
“Yeah, well,” I struggled to laugh, because if I didn’t laugh I’d probably cry. Of course my thoughts were all wrapped around Lucy.  
  
“You’re thinking about mom,” she read my mind easily.  
  
“I’m thinking about mom and I’m thinking about you,” I admitted with a small nod. “Sure. Of course. Just a little nervous.”  
  
“Nothing bad is going to happen, dad.”  
  
“I know that,” I forced a smile. “You’re strong and everything’s on track. I’m proud of you… Your mom would be too.”  
  
“Thanks, daddy,” she gently smiled up at me and then paused. “We’ve been through a lot together, huh?”  
  
“Yeah,” I couldn’t help but give a small laugh over the true fact. “Yeah we have, kiddo.”  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“…Being there. Through everything.”  
  
Her words meant the world to me and I struggled to keep from breaking down into tears in front of her, “Hey, thanks in return.”  
  
“For what?”  
  
“Having faith in me.”  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
I sat in the waiting room a nervous wreck. The in-laws offered to get me coffee several times, their million watt smiles flashing constantly despite my frown. I was exhausted, biting my nails, gripping my hair and throwing glances down the hall every other second it seemed, waiting for the doctor to come tell me something went wrong.  
  
The doctor wasn’t the one who came jogging down the hall though. Mason did, his eyes bright and shiny and his proud grin kicking my ass for ever feeling so worried. “It’s a boy, it’s a boy,” he gave his parents a hug in excitement before turning to me.  
  
“Abby’s ok?” my voice squeaked.  
  
“Abby’s ecstatic,” Mason smiled and gave me a tight hug. “She did amazing. You have a healthy grandson! Seven pounds and three ounces.”  
  
“Congratulations, kid,” my voice shook, but my smile grew until it probably met my eyes. “Welcome to fatherhood. It’s a crazy ride.”  
  
“As soon as she’s all settled in, Abigail wants you to come see her and the baby.”  
  
I could only nod, my heart was pounding and I was trying to process exactly what was going on. It all seemed too good to be true.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………  
  
I padded down the hall to room 505 and took in a breath of air before entering. It didn’t matter how much air I took in though, because when I was met with the sight inside I lost all oxygen in my lungs. There was my little girl seated in the bed and holding her own child; my grandson.  
  
“Hi, dad,” she smiled at me, radiant and beautiful. Yeah she looked tired and yeah she was probably wanting a shower, but none of it mattered right then. All that mattered was life and living life to the fullest.  
  
“Hey,” I greeted, surprising myself over how choked my voice already sounded and I hadn’t even set eyes on my grandson yet. “How’re you feeling?” I approached her slowly, my eyes flickering back and forth between the bundle and my daughter.  
  
“Great,” she giggled. “Come and meet your grandson.”  
  
I took a few more steps forward and carefully leaned over to see my grandchild, swaddled in a white blanket, only his little face visible and one hand slowly creeping its way out from the sheet. Tears flooded my eyes, I couldn’t help it. “Abby,” I whispered and kissed her head before looking back down to the baby. “He’s amazing.”  
  
“We named him Jamison,” she told me proudly.  
  
“Jamison,” I repeated and nodded with a smile. “Perfect. He already looks too smart to fall for the police story.”  
  
“Nah, we’ll trick him,” she continued to smile. “But if it doesn’t work, I’ll call you up and you can come play him guitar.”  
  
“You know I’m going to be knocking on your door constantly to come visit now, right?”  
  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she insisted and let Jamison grab hold of her pinky finger.  
  
“You’ll have to call up grandma and let her know that it’s a boy so she can go crazy knitting him a whole bunch of _blue_ baby clothes. All itchy and hideous and only wearable when grandma comes to visit.”  
  
Abigail laughed and agreed to it, muttering soothing words to Jamison about his great grandmother and grandfather. “Did you want to hold him?” she tilted her head up to look at me in question.  
  
“Christ, I haven’t held a baby in years,” I held my arms out to take my grandson. “Let’s see if I can still do this right. Here we go.”  
  
“Meet grandpa, Jamison,” Abigail explained enthusiastically. “He’s kind of awesome.”  
  
“Kind of?” I scoffed teasingly and then focused all my attention on the newborn in my arms.  
  
Jamison struggled to open his eyes and it was then and there I was met with the same curious and awe-inspiring blue eyes I had looked into twenty-seven years ago when I held Abby for the first time. I felt as if life had come around full circle. My child had her own child. I watched my little girl grow up and now I was going to watch her son; my grandson, grow up. I didn’t feel old, I felt fresh and renewed. I felt ready to take the world on and experience life all over again by watching Jamison mature. He would make all those milestones I had seen Abigail accomplish. He’d learn to sit up and crawl and walk. He would learn to scream and talk and sing. He would learn to read and write and create. He would make a difference. He already was as he lay cradled in my arms.  
  
I felt like I was supposed to have an epic speech planned out as my first words uttered to him, but all I could get out through the shock and awe I felt was:  
  
“Hey, kiddo, you have your mommy’s eyes.”


End file.
